


Written

by misura



Category: Bleach
Genre: Community: springkink, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-30
Updated: 2010-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 05:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shunsui always gave proper consideration to poetry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted February 2008
> 
> prompt: _Shunsui/Ukitake/Nanao: Tattooing/painting/inkbrushing on skin: write you like a book, read you like a love letter_

The wet brush tickled her naked skin; the sensation itself was, she admitted to herself, not wholly unpleasant, but distracting enough to force her to concentrate on keeping still, hands balled into fists at her side (Shunsui'd kissed them and would doubtlessly do so again within the next five minutes; Ukitake was more restrained, less given to flights of fancy unless drunk) - her lips were pressed together tightly; not a sound had passed her lips since Shunsui had begun his poem, which meant he doubtlessly knew how much of an effort it cost her to remain quiet; Shunsui was only a fool in some aspects, and had never been one when it came to reading her, heart, body and soul alike.

When Shunsui'd first voiced his idea, his desire to write poetry on her back (her front being, as he'd put it, too lovely curved a surface, fit to inspire poetry but not to contain it) she'd thought it a bit foolish, like all of Shunsui's suggestions - Ukitake's tended to be elegant combinations of romance and practicality, drawing their appeal from the fact that it'd be the three of them together. The past thirty minutes had done nothing to change her opinion, the fact that Shunsui had been spending at least half that time contemplating his third line not helping (her opinion and advise had been asked, then dismissed; that Ukitake was treated the same way was but a small comfort; he wasn't the one lying face-down, after all; he could afford to be amused).

Shunsui hummed softly, dipping his brush into the inkwell (it would come off easily, he'd sworn; she'd barely need to do more than brush a wet cloth over her skin to be rid of the poem testifying his eternal love for her - Ukitake had looked slightly doubtful) and, just as the brush touched her skin, something (someone, really) touched the sole of her right foot; she jerked involuntarily, unable to help herself, heard Shunsui murmur in disappointment and Ukitake in (she thought) barely concealed relief.

("Don't I get an apology, too?" Shunsui asked plaintively, at the bathhouse, later that evening, as Ukitake scrubbed her back in silent apology - Ukitake grinned and shook his head, saying: "Not unless you give one to Nanao first, for letting her wait half an hour for only two lines of poetry," making her flush slightly enough to be explained away by the heat of the water.

"What did I write again?" Shunsui inquired next, shaking his head, undoubtedly knowing their answers already.

"Next time, perhaps you should use paper instead," Ukitake suggested, teasingly but fondly, the way Shunsui would speak to her when he complained about her coldness; she herself never used that tone, too aware that they, these two men who had proclaimed they loved her, were still captains, and she merely an assistant-captain; capable and able, true, but still one full rank below them.

"Paper," Shunsui sighed. "But then others might see, and then our sweet Nanao might be embarrassed by others reading of my love for her. It would be inconsiderate.")


End file.
